Chapter 25
“There’s no way this city could possibly be this small.”
Hayes nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning around, he looked up in surprise at the one and only Officer Lavigne. The one and only Officer Hunky.
It was an odd course of events that resulted in Hayes and Beckett stopping in at the same pub where Officer Lavigne was now standing.
First, the US Marshals had been pissed that they’d had to burn their safehouse, but they’d agreed to let Matthew spend the night—mostly, Hayes guessed, because Franklin must have been driving them crazy.
Second, Matthew didn’t need them for guard duty that night, so they decided to go out on the town and relax.
They’d strolled around the Old Port, had dinner at a Moroccan restaurant, and ended up choosing this pub for a night cap.
Taking the time to unwind and distract themselves for the evening had been a nice change, since their lives were crazy enough on a regular basis.
Running into the studly cop currently staring at him hadn’t been part of that simple plan. Apparently, the Fates had smiled on them that night by making sure they didn’t leave town before they had a chance to spend time, off the clock, with their favorite Canadian police officer.
“If you weren’t a man of the law, I might be worried you’re stalking me,” Hayes said with a warm smile. He glanced around for Beckett, but he had yet to return from the men’s room.
“Scout’s honour I’m not,” he vowed, holding up three fingers in the official salute.
“I came here for a friend’s birthday, but they’re moving on to their next bar, and I’m—” he nodded towards the door.
“Well—I’m heading home,” he said, a little embarrassed, since cutting the evening short was certainly not the norm for young, single guys on a Friday night.
“Have a drink with us,” Beckett invited from behind Hayes.
Hayes nearly jumped out of his skin again.
Beckett looked relaxed and sly as he slid into his seat. He kicked an empty chair towards Officer Lavigne, silently urging him to sit down.
“No, no, I don’t want to intrude!” he exclaimed apologetically and began backing away.
“Nothing here to intrude on,” Beckett said, waving away his concerns. “Take a seat,” he insisted.
The tone of authority and alpha maleness in Beckett’s thinly-veiled command made Hayes’ gut clench. The young officer turned to Hayes, as if seeking reassurance. Acting on a devilish impulse, he winked his approval and smiled.
What the fuck had gotten into him?—oh, yes, of course—Beckett.
The officer smiled back at Hayes and then sat down.
The waitress noticed the officer joining them and came over to take their orders. Beckett ordered bourbon, Hayes chose a gin and tonic, and Lavigne asked for an IPA.
“So, should we call you Officer Lavigne, or—” Hayes said.
“Deputy Hunky?” Beckett suggested with a chuckle.
The officer’s ears immediately turned pink just as they had during the no parking zone incident.
“Jeremy,” he said, the pronunciation caught somewhere between French and English.
“Went to school with a Jeremy—pretty sure he stole my superhero lunchbox,” Beckett grumbled disconsolately.
Hayes pointedly ignored him and smiled warmly at Jeremy.
“Ignore Beckett—his mother dropped him on his head as an infant,” Hayes informed Jeremy, although there was a note of affectionate exasperation in his voice that softened the insult.
“Kind of figured that might be the problem considering how he came crawling out of that coffin—” Jeremy said with a laugh. He looked between them and smiled, relaxing in his chair. “Have you guys been working together a long time?” he asked.
Hayes wasn’t blind to what Jeremy was really asking.
“Four years of hell!” Beckett declared dramatically, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.
“And you got together before that or—”
“About three years in,” Hayes replied, shaking his head.
“So you knew what he was like long before you hooked up,” Jeremy said, smirking.
Beckett laughed boisterously and smacked the table in tacit approval.
“Suppose it means I must have gotten dropped by my own mother a time or two—but yes, you’re correct,” Hayes acknowledged with a sigh.
“I don’t know—” Jeremy said, with a shrug. “I kind of see how it works.”
“And how’s that, pup?” Beckett asked, clearly trying to wind him up. Typical Beckett, no booze required.
Jeremy appeared delighted to accept Beckett’s challenge, smiling as he leaned back in his seat.
“Good relationships balance like a seesaw. If one person is disorganised, then the other has to be just organised enough to offset that, but not too much. Otherwise their balance is thrown off. Same goes for crazy.”
Beckett snorted but didn’t offer any objections to Jeremy’s logic.
Hayes thought Officer Hunky might be onto something. Not just a pretty boy, after all. There was a lot going on behind those crystal blue eyes.
The waitress delivered their drinks, and they automatically clinked their glasses together in a friendly toast.
“How long you been on the force?” Beckett asked, looking genuinely curious.
“Five years. Was in the army before that for three years,” Jeremy replied.
“Which would make you—?”
“I’m 28,” Jeremy said, studying Beckett’s reaction to hearing that, aware that it really mattered.
Beckett turned to Hayes and said, “Closer to 30 than 20.”
Jeremy chuckled knowing perfectly well what they were up to.
“Do you do this often?” he asked, cheekily, as he lifted his beer to take a sip.
“Nope!” Beckett replied, popping the P.
“Does it show?” Hayes asked with a charmingly rueful smile.
“Kinda,” he answered. “Should I like—go to the men’s room for a minute? Let you decide if you’re down with it?”
Hayes liked how direct Jeremy was in his approach to deciding how the evening was going to play out.
“Good idea,” Beckett said. He reached inside his suede bomber and, briefly, Hayes was worried he’d pull a gun. Instead, he handed Jeremy a Sharpie. “Go doodle a penis on the stall door—and don’t mess up the ball to shaft ratio,” he said with mock sternness.
Jeremy snorted but got to his feet, plucking the Sharpie from Beckett’s hand before turning and walking towards the back of the bar.
Both watched his departure, admiring his assets.
“We said we wouldn’t do it,” Hayes reminded Beckett, because they’d had this conversation previously at the conclusion of the crypt job.
“Sure, but this is like—the third time we’ve run into him randomly. If that’s not an intervention from on high, then I don’t know what the fuck it is.” He laughed and took a sip of his bourbon.
“You’re saying you think God wants us to have a threesome?”
“I am but a man—I can only guess what our creator wants, but—all signs point to yes,” he said, mimicking shaking an eight ball for divination, and then giving Hayes a two thumps up.
And this was one of Hayes’ favourite things about them.
Jeremy had hit the nail squarely on the head because truly, their relationship was indeed just like a seesaw at times.
Hayes was famous for always overthinking everything—insisting on following the rules, while Beckett was always ready to say fuck it, appearing to rely solely on the current wind direction in choosing a course of action at any given moment.
Hayes forced Beckett to reconsider and question his actions, while Beckett forced Hayes to act on his desires rather than to squash them ruthlessly with hard logic.
“You want to do this?” Hayes asked, taking a deep breath as he made up his mind about what he wanted.
“Why not? He’s hot as hell—you’re sinfully attractive—and we’ll probably never have to see him again,” Beckett said, shrugging. “I’m a little nervous about the possibility of poking my eye out with the extra dick involved—so, think I can keep my shades on while we do him?”
Good God! Now that was a vision. Beckett, naked, taking Jeremy from behind, head thrown back, wearing his yellow-tinted aviators.
“Careful there, Daisy,” Beckett warned with a chuckle. “I can see your tent from here—we still have to walk out of here.”
Hayes growled in annoyance but there was no forcing his erection down after that mental picture seared itself onto his brain.
Beckett snorted and grabbed his bourbon. He tossed it back and reached for his wallet, pulling out several bills to cover their tab.
“Are you guys good, or should I go back and add a pair of boobs to complete the picture?” Jeremy asked as he plopped back in his seat, twirling the Sharpie between his fingers.
“Finish your beer,” Beckett ordered brusquely, expecting immediate compliance.
That same commanding tone made Hayes go crazy at times. It seemed to have the same effect on the stud, since he hastily reached for his beer and chugged it all in one go.
“Oh, look! He swallows!” Beckett exclaimed, cracking himself up as Jeremy finished his beer and thunked the empty glass down in front of him.
“My place or yours?” Jeremy asked them, gamely.
“Unless you want a group project with a mob boss and a granny—yours,” Beckett replied with a wicked grin.
Although the young cop looked puzzled by that strange answer, he rose swiftly and led the way out without a single word of complaint.
They had not had nearly enough to drink to calm Hayes’ nerves.
It had been different with Thalia. First, he hadn’t known what was about to happen until he’d been drawn into the middle of Beckett’s plan.
Second, he’d been on familiar ground. He’d been with far more women than men, taking into consideration that Beckett was his first ever same-sex encounter.
This—the three of them standing in an elevator, heading to Jeremy’s apartment, perfectly aware what they were going there to do, but acting perfectly innocent when in public—was unknown territory.
Beckett, on the other hand, looked perfectly relaxed. Hayes supposed it made sense, since his partner didn’t just handle himself well during periods of chaos—he fucking thrived on it. So, in essence, this was a cakewalk for him. Not so much for Hayes.